Man, the Cars sure have a lot of lines about footwear.
I’m at home, and have been since Thursday. Tuesday night, my right foot started to swell, and on Wednesday night it was so big that my skin felt like it was going to burst. Gross. On Thursday, I called out and went to the doctor because my right foot won’t fit in shoes. I was able to squeeze it into some really lowcut flats so I could leave the house, but that’s it. The doctor wasn’t sure what was wrong; I don’t have gout and I didn’t break it. I was told to stay home and elevate my foot until the podiatrist can see me on Monday.
I haven’t really felt like dressing up at all, although last night some friends came over and I wore a fabulous ensemble: old man stripey pajamas, glittery white socks, and a disturbing Iron Maiden shirt Rusty gave me a few years back. Everybody laughed at me, even Derek, who helped me pick it out.
I am so sick of this. There are two parties that I wanted to go to tonight, but I have to keep my foot above my heart as much as possible, so I don’t think I’ll be leaving the house. I wish my heart were lower.